


and wit for sword;

by reaperangelique



Series: mars may sell you kingdoms, but venus crowned me queen. [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Banter, Desk Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Historical, Historical Hetalia, Military Uniforms, Napoleonic Wars, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, PruAus Week 2016, Regency, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Undressing, but strip searching isn't???, damn that's a tag, france is just mentioned, holy rome too, it's not really public it's just not the wisest place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 01:12:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8308057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reaperangelique/pseuds/reaperangelique
Summary: Liberal Nature did dispenseTo all things arms for their defence;And some she arms with sinewy force,And some with swiftness in the course...Wisdom to Man she did afford,Wisdom for shield, and wit for sword.What to beauteous Womankind,What arms, what armour has she assigned?Beauty is both; for with the fairWhat arms, what armour can compare? The enemy of one's enemy is one's friend (with benefits). In a turbulent, uneasy era at the turn of the 19th century, Austria distracts herself with uncharacteristic flights of fancy, and her perpetual playmate indulges her.Part of the Mars & Venus 'verse.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I admit, I chose the title poem before I wrote the story, but I didn't pay a lot of attention to it, so you can read whatever meaning you like into it. The poem is _Beauty_ , by Abraham Cowley (after the Anacreontea): http://www.potw.org/archive/potw154.html
> 
> This story is set at some point in 1810- for detailed historical notes, please see the end of the page. Also, it was written for PruAus Week 2016, which is just ending and of which I am co-mod! The prompt is Day 5: Formalwear/Underwear (Hardmode: **Uniforms** , Bonus: **NSFW** ).

Boot heels clicked against the stone of the library floor; a hollow sound, slightly dulled, and echoing.

A strange echo, to fall with a heavier thud than the steps themselves, which were light but deliberate, a dancer's pace, kept to a steady beat.

Austria paid it no attention. She strode through the labyrinth of wood and paper as steadily as if she knew where she was going- unlikely, as she had not set foot inside the room in some time, and even if she had, such a place is almost _designed_ for getting lost in. She could almost, then, be absolved of responsibility for her aimless wandering, in this one instance.  
  
But if it was aimless, it didn't show; she slowed and paused only to examine books that caught her eye, and her echo paused with her. The books she chose for their covers of rich coloured leather and gilt lettering, not removing them from their shelves but perhaps running a gloved finger down the spine, before moving on. Idly curious, in truth, about the languages and topics she was no scholar of, and whether the owner of the library had ever really read them. Whenever her fingers came away dusty, she scoffed under her breath.  
  
She only turned from her path, straight along one side of the room, when her eye lingered on books she knew well- many of them, gathered in one place. This was the section designated _Music_ , with little fanfare; there were gaps on the shelves. She drew a line in the perfect sheen of dust coating the middle shelf, right at the feet of the master composers she had known and loved- quite directly, in some cases- until she hit on conspicuous clean patches. _Compositions of Frederick the Great, for Flute_ , and so on; she shook her head, judged the entire selection pitiful, and moved on, down along the aisle and deeper into the library.  
  
The echo fell a beat behind, but grew louder.  
  
Wherever Austria found herself- further into the centre of the maze, she assumed- the system of organisation was inscrutable to her; here was a section on mathematics, here Ancient Greek, here architecture- the books seemed to go off on tangents, a certain logic to it, but little _sense_. No better than she expected, of course. Now, _she_ would do it differently, more sensibly; indeed, her own small library and miscellaneous bookshelves were organised by _Arts_ , and _Sciences_ \- or, depending, _Tragedies_ or _Comedies_ \- by author, or era, or _style_ , and- in the most ornamental displays, admittedly- sometimes in a rainbow of colours, for the look of the thing. That was perfectly sensible to her.  
  
But the room began to open up, and the books gave way to journals and records, wider shelves and finally some sort of workspace, to write those records upon. Austria had been here before- often chastened out in short order, before she could peruse anything interesting. Disappointingly, there were no books or papers left open on the handsome leather-topped desk, only inkwells and silver pens and other odds and ends, laid out as precisely as a soldier's weapons for inspection. _Her_ desk at home was in a continuous state of refined chaos, achieving a sort of liminality between working, and not working, at all times- and often expanding, all over the study, meandering to the kitchen and finishing in the music room, a trail of gilt writing utensils and manuscript paper littered with notes. Or correspondence, half-read or half-written, left on the mantelpiece with a biscuit and a posy of dried flowers while she left to look for her signet ring, and promptly forget all about it. That, to her, was quite normal, compared to this ludicrous regimentation.  
  
It was boring, that was its chiefest crime, even if it looked very presentable. She had come to _spy_ , after all, or- well, she would let him believe that. Especially if he was fool enough to shadow her through her entire tour of his library, _echoing_ behind her, despite knowing full well her ears were too sharp to miss his presence. But she knew it wasn't carelessness, or real suspicion. It was for his amusement.  
  
And coming here at all was for hers.  
  
She fingered an engraved dip pen, an expensive trinket compared to the common quill, testing the weight of it while she listened for her echo. There was a movement behind her, somewhere in the shelves, and then a very audible pause, a living sound, held breath and tense muscles.  
  
"You know, if I were only a servant or some guest," Austria said, her voice softly sliding through the thick quiet of the library, a palette knife through a sponge cake, "I should be very alarmed to feel someone following me this way. I do not think it quite polite."  
  
Nothing moved, or replied, but some tension fell away, and she assumed that _someone_ smiled.  
  
"As it is," she went on, putting the pen down and moving instead to examine a row of thick volumes, "I think you ought to lose weight, or change your boots. Your footsteps are comically heavy. And you breathe too loudly."  
  
She didn't bother to look around when the air shifted, and fabric rustled, deliberately light steps barely making a sound. She couldn't feel his eyes- no one can _feel_ a gaze, not really- but she knew they were on her, because she knew that Prussia was behind her now, and what else would he be looking at?  
  
"Still too loud, my dear."  
  
"And you're too easy to track, _darling_." He sounded terribly amused, his voice cutting the silence as sharply as Austria's was smooth, though he kept it low. "God help you if someone more _unscrupulous_ than me ever follows you home."  
  
"That is a statistical improbability, but I will bear it in mind." More immoral persons than Prussia were not, strictly speaking, hard to come by, but very, _very_ few of those persons could _possibly_ cause her as much trouble as he could.  
  
Austria turned now at last, and the tail of curls in her hair swung around and brushed past her shoulder. She habitually wore her hair long, as she liked it, no matter the fashion- it was a common stubbornness among immortals who had long since developed the mule-like personal preferences of the very elderly, despite looking very young.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asked, her eyebrow raised as she regarded Prussia. He was leaning against one of his own bookshelves, the heel of one tall, heavy riding boot propping him up.  
  
"What're _you_ doing?" he shot back, and she supposed he had the right; she had shown up at his house, with her carriage and her small entourage, and gone wandering before she had even taken tea. It was his own fault for being inattentive, however. "And what are you _wearing_?"  
  
She looked down at her clothes, and then pointedly at his. "The same as you, it appears."  
  
"But you _never_ wear uniform off the field," he said with a snort; he pulled himself up from the shelf, moving closer to her. His posture accentuated the uniform he wore, his relative height made impressive by the illusions those long boots and all the silver braid on his chest conjured. It was so dark a blue as to be almost black in the shade of the library, but the ornamentation glinted in any speck of light. The contrast with Austria's uniform was so stark as to seem planned, even trite (and perhaps that had been in the back of her mind when she chose to put it on); hers was nearly pure white, accented with gold.  
  
She adjusted a cuff, before squaring up to him. Her bearing was not the military type, and Prussia was quite correct, she rarely dressed for 'business' in this way; even now, she took liberties with it. She made a concession to the times in the tight curls about her face, the gathered bundle of them behind her head, set with jewels and finishing in that long tail. Her gloves were fine ladies' silk, and she scorned gaiters, wearing elegant dark boots, buttoned to the knee. It was not as though she could get soldier's shoes to fit, the uniform had been trouble enough. But she wore it well, and she wore it precisely for this reaction.  
  
"I wear it when I have business to attend to, of course," she said, with a tilt of her head. "Did you think this was a social call?"  
  
Prussia pursed his lips slightly, and she knew he was weighing her words, wondering what to believe. It was very obvious that he _had_ thought her visit for pleasure. "What business d'you have in my library, hah?"  
  
"I came in here because you are a poor host, and neglected me," she said, turning from him to move his pens around on the desk, waiting for him to take them and put them back in place- he managed to wait a whole ten seconds for her to put them down before he did so, and she allowed herself an imperceptible smile. "I came to visit Holy Rome."  
  
"Yeah? Well, I was busy lookin' after the kid, y'know," Prussia replied, concentrating on the symmetry of his desk; his voice was mild, but Austria could see him frown slightly before he looked at her again. "That's business, now, is it?"  
  
"Is it not?"  
  
"This somethin' to do with Frankreich?" His expression was a little grim, untrusting; Austria felt a pang she knew must match anything he felt, if not outmatch it, for the little boy who had become so much collateral damage under their care- but not only for him. Distrust and suspicion were old friends in this house in Berlin, but she was tired of them.  
  
"...No." She paused uncomfortably, then sighed in the manner of one whose fun has been slightly spoiled. "I was attempting to be humorous."  
  
Prussia squinted quizzically at her. "Humorous? _You_? ...About Holy Rome?"  
  
" _No_ , fool, about the uniform," she snapped, hands on hips; her irritated expression was a well-worn one, and did not look humorous at all- well, not intentionally. "Of course I am not here on business, what business have I with you and your library, indeed?! If you must know, I came directly from a ride with the Archduke. It is all well and good for travelling in, but I wish to change as soon as possible."  
  
"...And the funny part?" Prussia prompted, leaning down on the desk with folded arms, the better to look at her with disbelief.  
  
"Oh- well- I thought..." Austria fidgeted with her hair, looking at the shelves instead of Prussia, but hardly seeing them. This was, it now dawned on her, a foolish idea and a poor joke. "I thought I would give you the impression I had important matters to attend to, such as- ah, investigating your personal archives for...something- oh, it doesn't matter- you- you needn't _laugh_ , I know it isn't amusing!"  
  
He had collapsed into giggles on the desk while she attempted to explain her idea of a prank. What really irked her was that he wouldn't think twice about pulling the same stunt at her house; he just had the sheer brass to do it without being hampered by embarrassment.  
  
"I _did_ come to visit him," she muttered, crossing her arms in a sulk as Prussia gripped the back of a chair, doubled over with chuckles. "But if people won't _greet_ their guests properly then they _will_ find them wandering, nosing in their things and probably causing breakages, don't I know it- "  
  
"What- is this 'cause I knocked over that big- flowery plant thing- " Prussia spluttered and gestured, struggling with his own laughter as he dragged himself upright; Austria could not _imagine_ what he found so funny- _surely_ it was not the mere fact of her attempting comedy. "That was an accident, God damn it."  
  
"That was a beautiful _Gardenia_!" she moaned, the memory fresh and painful- it had taken tender care to grow those sweet white blossoms to such a size. "And you put your foot through my greenhouse wall, _accidentally_! What were you doing in there?!"  
  
"Well- you said yourself- you weren't watchin' me- I mean, attentive- so, yeah! I was bored! The door was open- "  
  
"There you have it! You've no right," Austria railed, "to chastise me for coming in here- and you never did answer- what _were_ you doing, following me?"  
  
The abruptness of her return to the topic at hand seemed to put him on the back foot, surprise in his face, but humour lingered around his mouth; she could not put her finger on it, but it was more than amusement at a failed joke. He seemed to take pleasure in her very presence, his laughter more than a little relief that she was not here on any _business_ , bringing any unhappy tidings. They had each of them had enough unhappiness in recent years, existing now in an unusual state of uneasy peace- curiously not with each other, but with a common adversary in France. The two of them had no argument, for once in their lives, nor were their situations exceptionally different. They had fought and lost separately, commiserated with each other, and in the end, grieved together, quietly, for something that wasn't quite gone, yet.  
  
Although they had perhaps drawn their truces with France slightly differently. Austria, on typical form, had thrown a wedding party. The bride had duly put aside her country's enmity with that loathsome little emperor; her country had found it difficult.  
  
Prussia took his time replying. He came around the desk to face her, leaning back against it, arms folded. "I was bein' attentive."  
  
"Skulking in the dark behind me?" Austria tilted her chin up, fixing him with a Look she had perfected just for him. He smiled- more of a smirk, if she had to name it, one side of his mouth turning up and putting a handsome dimple in his cheek- she felt a brief urge to pinch it.  
  
"I can be attentive from behind you."  
  
"I know _that_ very well." That, in her opinion, was the moral downfall of the trousers she was wearing, they made things easy for perverts who would otherwise have to exercise some imagination. Though perhaps memory was the word, here. "Was _that_ your motive?"  
  
He shrugged one shoulder, almost coyly; she felt another impulse towards him, but she didn't move. _He knew._ "Hmh. Seems to me like it makin' it _my_ motive was _your_ motive, leading me all the way in here...what's your game, hah, Princess?"  
  
"You are mistaking me for someone who plays games, Preußen- like yourself, perhaps," Austria replied, affecting a lofty tone; she took a step towards Prussia, now, toying with her gloves, to avoid meeting his eyes. It wouldn't do to give her _game_ away without a bit of pretense. "Please do not try to pin your own unseemly intentions on me."  
  
She could still see his incredulous amusement out of the corner of her eye. "Oho? You don't play games, is that right, Österreich?"  
  
"No more than I play practical jokes," she said, entirely flatly, and she looked him in the eye; he was eyeing her with a contained enthusiasm she hadn't seen in a while, and, despite herself, she basked in it, her chest filling with more than air as she drew a deep breath. It wasn't warm in the library, but the air was heavier than she'd thought, not satisfying her need for oxygen, if that was what she lacked. "No, I believe this is _your_ game- "  
  
"Mine? Haaah." Prussia pushed himself off the desk, closed the gap between them a little more, even as he widened the gulf between their heights. He let a long breath out even as Austria drew one in, in the habit of making strange little noises, verbal punctuation- ellipses, while he readied his rejoinders. " _You're_ the visitor- appreciate it, by the way, I never see you in Berlin these days- "  
  
"Your house has a draught."  
  
" -and _you_ just arrived, and you're tellin' me I had some game in mind already? Is it cosier in Paris?"  
  
"I would not know. And of course you had some game in mind, when have you ever needed notice? I never said your games were complex."  
  
"That so?" Prussia was only half a foot away from her now, staring down into her eyes in a way that had unnerved her, two or three hundred years ago; now she seemed to drown in it, drink in the strange liquid colours of his eyes. She gave as good as she got, staring at his lower eyelashes.  
  
"Is what so?"  
  
"You don't know if it's nice in Paris this time of year."  
  
"I expect it's the same lovely rat's nest as always, though I concede they may have better heating than you do." Austria paused in reflection of her own remark. "Much better, if you do not mind being burned half to death."  
  
"Ah- " Prussia began, but even he apparently did not want to get on to the topic of the fire; just how bad of an omen it was for a wedding ball to end in conflagration was left for Austria to dwell on. "That the last time you were there?"  
  
"Apart from a few trifling meetings. I have not wished to linger. _Why_ , may I ask, are you derailing my perfectly good conversation?" She pursed her lips at him, as red as her red, red rose salve, and he duly considered them before looking slightly contrite.  
  
"Sorry. One sec- " He was teasing, of course, and he made a show of rearranging his features until he was ready to continue where they had left off. "Alright, I can mess with you anytime, but that doesn't mean I was tryin' to- y'know you're not the only one who was thinking of you snooping around where you shouldn't be, 'cause _I_ had the thought too. And you would've if I hadn't caught up, minx."  
  
Austria sniffed. "So you say, but just a moment ago you laughed at the idea that I was spying on you. Which is it?"  
  
There was that one-sided grin again, and that strange, intense pleasure in his eyes as he regarded her. It struck her suddenly that he had missed her, in the relatively short time they had not seen each other, and a warm gratification settled in her belly. After all this time, even the simplest emotions, taken for granted by all other creatures on earth, she was sure, were never settled in stone for them. Not as nations; just as themselves.  
  
"Maybe I was gettin' a little paranoid since you, ah." Was she mistaken, or was there a slight bashfulness in Prussia's face, alongside the mocking smile? "Since you rediscovered your taste for _tarte Tatin_ after all that time swearin' off it and eating good wholesome German food- "  
  
"You idiot. I'll have you know we served Strudel at the wedding. Which you would know if you had attended."  
  
"Like hell," he said, and he reached out to her unexpectedly; Austria remained stock still, but the frisson of her mental wires subsided only when she realised he was straightening her collar. "I hope you wore somethin' else on the big day, 'cause you're always a little sloppy with your uniform."  
  
"Of course I did, and you missed your opportunity to see it." She eyed him as he fixed a golden fastening, minutely adjusted the dark cravat just visible under the collar; his hands were ungloved. "Were you feeling...cuckolded?"  
  
That earned her a long, shrewd stare, eyebrow raised; perhaps Prussia was trying not to laugh as much as he was fighting the urge to be loudly offended. Austria had been making jokes of this nature at his expense since they became acquainted- and before, probably, in that distant childhood era- at first only to needle at the insecurities he wore on his sleeve, but now she enjoyed a certain privilege in heckling him, and knowing there would always be at least a sliver of his heart that savoured it. He had earned the embarrassment, the quickening of his pulse and the dryness of a tongue unable to form arguments, a hundred hundred times over.  
  
He recovered his cool with a flick to one of her buttons, which she did not appreciate. "More like I dodged a bullet, Princess."  
  
"Really. I heard you spectacularly _failed_ to dodge quite a few of them." Austria made a point to fidget with her own clothes, undoing Prussia's work. "I won't ask _which_ bullet you supposedly dodged, by the way."  
  
"Says _you_. And good, 'cause I don't wanna talk about it, 's boring," he replied, and he paused to watch her loosen her collar again before he went on; Austria answered her own question in her head- surely he referred to the indignity of treating with France, not the thought of marrying Austria herself, which was, of course, always a desirable state of affairs. How he continued to resist it, she did not know. "I don't need to come to some jumped-up little prick's sham wedding to see you dressed up these days, anyway. Times've changed, thank fuck."  
  
"Hardly a sham. More's the pity," Austria said, in unchanged, refined monotone, but she meant it; the whole thing was really quite distasteful, however pleased the newlyweds supposedly were. To be a marauding French charlatan's second wife, of all things...but she didn't want to talk about it, either. "Anyway, you are quite right. Look at me. I am about as dressed up as I can be."  
  
She spread her arms slightly, as though reaching for the skirts of an invisible gown, a sardonic look on her face. The bright white uniform had never seen combat, and it was as decorated as any prince's, but although the cut and fit were quite exact, she felt she wore it awkwardly; she could almost float in the heaviest gown, yet she couldn't quite get her stride right, dressed as lightly as a man.  
  
Prussia duly admired her- her body or the uniform itself, she couldn't tell- but he shook his head. "I mean dressed up, y'know- in a...dress."  
  
"You have seen me in thousands of dresses."  
  
"I'm talkin' about the really dressy dresses!"  
  
"And what do you care about them? I recall," Austria drawled, noting in her head that this was only _one_ recollection out of innumerable incidents, "in the last century, you took the very jewels from one of my finest court gowns for your ' _war effort_ '. While I was wearing it!"  
  
"Even better," he grinned. "Two for one, a pretty dress and a pretty penny."  
  
"So that is it. Your pockets have run dry and you wish to pick mine. This is precisely why I do not wear my expensive things to your house any more." Never mind the fact that a game of hide-and-seek in a dingy library hardly called for a ballgown, she thought. She could tell by his face, though, and his odd persistence on the topic, that he was disappointed in some way by her dress; he had planned something. "...Were you expecting me to come wearing something else?"  
  
He paused, pouting his lips as if chewing on his answer, before deciding to admit to it. "For social calls, I expect something...sophisticated! I expect _you_ to show off a little, when you come to Berlin- hell, I thought that was the only reason you ever did come here."  
  
He was smiling, and without truly noticing, she smiled slightly along with him. Of course it wasn't the only reason she visited Berlin- especially not now- but in a funny way, it was.  
  
"I did tell you I came directly from another engagement. And, well, I tried to have my _fun_ with it," she said, her intonation of ' _fun_ ' reminiscent of something like ' _seafood_ ', or ' _exercise_ '. "Is it truly so disconcerting?- the uniform, not the... _jape_."  
  
"Downright creepy," Prussia said, not missing a beat, "on both counts. Made me think for a second you were gonna pull a damn knife out and stick me- some low-down, cowardly assassination plot- "  
  
"Oh, for goodness' sakes, as if I would come in full dress uniform to do such a thing, how obvious. Would you let this paranoia of the French go?"  
  
"Never said nothin' about the French," he quipped, and she made a face at him. "Really though, in that fancy-ass uniform...you always look so..."  
  
As he trailed off, Austria raised an eyebrow. _Unfashionable? Unladylike? ...Short?_  
  
"...Domineering," he finally managed, making a face of his own- it must have sickened him still, ever so slightly, to admit she made such an impression on him. She couldn't think why, he'd had occasion to be very vocal about her domineering tendencies- many occasions- but never in _complaint_.  
  
"...That is a long word."  
  
"Tch- shut up." He rolled his shoulders, looking away from her at last- so like the way she would let her eyes linger on some object rather than her conversation partner, to let them know just how little interest she had in them. For him, it seemed more instinctive than calculated. "Just sayin' it's a little _militaristic_ for a damn house call, you looked like you were marching on me, not stopping for tea."  
  
Austria was about to retort that he would just have to live with it, because she _had_ stopped for tea and would not be changing until she'd had it, but a thought came to her, and she cocked her head at him. It seemed she hadn't worked her little joke, her game, out of her system; a part of her questioned it, almost chastised herself for it. Analysed it- perhaps this impulse was some kind of hysterical response to her losses and humiliations, to the ludicrous state of affairs in Europe- or some small rebellion, and hadn't she always found her rebellion in Prussia's arms? Just a small, personal one, never enough to pull her from her duty and self-interest, but enough to _feel_ , and act how she chose, with someone who would never criticise rebellion, never condemn selfishness.  
  
She elected to ignore this internal evaluation.  
  
Prussia had finally caught on to her lofty stare, and he shifted, standing a little taller. "What?"  
  
" _You_ were the one stalking me through the shadows- and dressed to kill, as you are."  
  
"Eh?" He looked down at himself, all the silver and brass shining on his chest, and spread his hands, smiling. "Not even armed, Princess- I've been _working_ , y'know, I have an image to keep up, right?"  
  
"And I am supposed to take your word for it that you are unarmed?" Austria said, and she took a step closer, impossibly close yet without touching. Now he shifted, subtly putting his weight on his back foot. She knew quite well what he meant by _image_ ; he would never let anyone catch him looking less than a picture of military might, not after those defeats. And she knew he had nothing on him. And yet.  
  
"C'mon, this is my house," he complained, half-laughing. " _You're_ the interloper, you little witch, what've you got tucked away in your drawers, hmm? I should've stopped you at the door and conducted a strip search- "  
  
"That is a most sensible idea, Preußen."  
  
He blinked at her; she got the impression he was trying to take a step back in surprise and maintain his position all at once, and he wobbled a bit, woozily leaning in towards her before he caught himself. "Eh?"  
  
"You said it yourself," she went on, straight-faced. "One might easily have something _tucked away_ , as you say, and by one, I of course mean you."  
  
"But," he protested, "I'm at home- "  
  
"With access to your full armoury, yes. I know perfectly well what sort of daggers and so forth you keep here." She made a point of eyeing parts of his body, as if a knife hilt might poke out at any second.  
  
"But- tch, you're the spy! The assassin! If anyone's gettin' searched it's you!" He sounded slightly whiny- regretting that he failed to insist on a search first, no doubt, because now she had the upper hand. He was fairly terrible at bargaining.  
  
" _You_ tailed a so-called assassin, in stealth, presumably to _stop_ me, if necessary..." she said, and she paused to look at him reproachfully, and let her argument sink in; he rolled his eyes ghoulishly, pulling spectacular faces. "Therefore, I assert that you most certainly armed yourself, expecting _me_ to be armed- and since there is no substantial reason to think that I am, _you_ are the more suspicious party here, and you should submit to a search."  
  
"...Hey, Princess," Prussia replied, at length. "You ever consider becoming an advocate, on the side? You could raise funds for the war effort- "  
  
"Now, now," she said, with a meaningful look. "What war effort? ...Spread your arms, if you please."  
  
He was silent for a minute, watching her with narrowed eyes; he could make them seem grey and cold between those pale lashes, sharp as ice. Then he laughed, and the warm wine-colour flooded back, open red eyes and red cheeks and wicked red tongue, and obediently, he spread his arms wide.  
  
"All right, all right, you can have your way," he conceded; he didn't seem to be taking it very _seriously_ , but it would do, and Austria put her hands on his waist before he could do anything else to delay her.  
  
"Then stay still and hush." She stared at the silver buttons, the array of medals before her. Valour, exemplary service...typical aristocratic affectations, she thought- as many medals as you please by virtue of proximity to the king, but no real risk to your life. Joking aside, it was a dazzling collection. She hovered, her hands clenching in the fabric of his jacket, without looking up at his face- she knew he was watching and waiting, could feel his breath warm on her forehead and strong in his torso, the movement of his chest so close to hers causing all that metal to glint and gleam in shifting patterns. It was hypnotic, but she pulled herself together, and finally reached up to touch that decorated chest, fingers dancing lightly over fastenings to determine the proper method, palms settling gingerly to feel the thick fabric. Hard to find anything beneath that with a cursory examination- it would have to come off.  
  
This was what she had come for- more or less- the game, the challenge. In the dull intervals between their wars, she felt the need to fill the space. It didn't bear thinking about, let alone admitting out loud, but there it was.  
  
She made for his buttons, deft fingers loosing one, two, three in a flash, but he caught her wrists just as deftly, unexpectedly; she looked at him in surprise.  
  
"I told you to be still- "  
  
"Ah, ah. One condition," he said, and his teeth gleamed like his silver. "I still don't trust you, you know, and if you're gonna make me vulnerable by takin' it all off- I mean, you could get me good with whatever _you_ have hidden away, right? So, fair's fair, Princess- I'll do you too, eye for an eye."  
  
"But- " Austria was about to protest that he was being silly; even if, for some foolish reason, she _did_ decide to stab him, what would that matter? But that return to reality, she remembered, would spoil the game. So she stopped, and after a moment, nodded. "Very well, if you must. _Carefully._ Now- shall we get on with it?"  
  
It would never do to show interest in the idea of him taking her clothes off piece by piece, in what was technically a public setting, so she didn't. Nor did she look at his grinning face as she returned to his jacket- she didn't even linger at her task, unbuttoning him in a rush. His dark jacket fell open to reveal a white waistcoat, and- unsurpisingly- an absence of any dagger or pistol. But that needn't stop her.  
  
"May I?" She didn't wait for his acquiescence- her hands were still gloved, she noted with disappointment, but the silk was thin, and when she ran them over his ribs and down his stomach, they felt enough.  
  
She was searching his waistcoat pockets- an excuse to press her fingertips into the area above his hips, and make him squirm- when he moved, shrugging his jacket off to drop it neatly over the back of the nearby chair. Without it, he flexed his arms in their light shirtsleeves, tugged at his collar.  
  
"Don't forget, Princess..."  
  
"Yes, yes," she said, waving him off, "just a moment. I am just- " She broke off suddenly, her fingers hitting on something in his pocket. Hard metal with a rough surface- could be filigree- and many edges on what was possibly faceted stone, a jumble of textures in small parts. "What is this? Not a watch- "  
  
"Never you mind," he interjected, and she found her hand swiftly pulled from his pocket; she frowned up at him as he held her wrist tightly, his free hand hurriedly unfastening his own waistcoat, the quicker to throw it off. "Sheesh, nosy."  
  
"Excuse me, I am searching you! What if that was a weapon?" Austria made a sour face as she watched him shuck the vest, toss it over his jacket, with whatever bit of jewellery he was hiding still concealed from her in the pocket. "...If that is something you stole from me- "  
  
"It's not! Jesus!" Prussia was indignant, but his face was flushed, his eyes darting around and avoiding hers; he was a poor liar, a worse bluffer. Austria debated seizing the mystery object, but unfortunately, whatever Prussia lacked in eloquence, he made up for in vigour, and before she knew it, she found herself grasped by the lapels. "Oi- forget that- that's two pieces of clothing, Österreich, you're getting ahead of me."  
  
He cocked his head, and flashed her a grin as though he could not decide whether he wanted to be threatening or charming; she rolled her eyes at him.  
  
"Why, you are quite right. Excuse me- if I might make things fair? Thank you."  
  
He let her go, wary but interested, and she straightened the front of her jacket- and promptly slipped off both her gloves, tossing them down on the desk.  
  
"There."  
  
Silence. Prussia squinted at the dainty grey gloves for a long moment.  
  
"Princess..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Did you think that was gonna work?"  
  
She blinked at him, a picture of innocent confusion, and there was a brief standoff- but she soon sighed, and held her hands up in defeat. "Oh, if you _really_ must."  
  
"Y'know..." Prussia began, as he approached her again, reaching to make quick work of the polished golden buttons on her chest; the thick wool, the layers and the masculine cut disguised her figure somewhat, but as the jacket came undone, the swell of her chest above her narrower waist became more obvious. Austria dutifully let it slip from her arms, while Prussia turned his attention to her exposed shape, his hands beginning either side of her ribcage and moving down the slope of her midsection, thumbs brushing down her belly. It was a slow exploration, a tender touch that gave her the proverbial butterflies- a much jumpier, more ticklish feeling than the romantic term implied, in her view.  
  
Prussia seemed to forget what he had been saying, his thumbs caressing the buttons of her waistcoat, a pretty embroidered thing in blood-red silk; his fingers gripped her waist. Austria cleared her throat.  
  
"Ah- " He caught himself, and started again, this time unbuttoning the waistcoat. "Y'know, when you try to cheat like that it's almost like you don't _want_ to play..."  
  
"Hmph. What are you talking about? I am only interested in searching you for my safety," she said, even as she arched her back and let him slide another layer off her shoulders; she left it to him to neatly set her things aside, as he always would- except, perhaps, in his most heated moments, and even then he would usually start folding things up _afterwards_. Freed, her hands came up to his shoulders, and now that only one thin layer came between her fingertips and his skin, the heat that emanated from him suddenly seemed to intensify; without their proper outerwear, in loose shirts and tight trousers that seemed little more than underclothes, the distance between them became non-existent- each breath visible, each thumping heart tangible.  
  
"And _who_ ," Austria continued suddenly, her voice breathy as she felt that struggle for oxygen again- Prussia was meeting her halfway with his hands, holding her by the hips, his face a picture of concentration as he studied the contours of her chest- " _who_ says that I was cheating...?"  
  
He looked up at that, in time for her fingers to caress his neck and dip below the collar of his shirt- he wore no kind of necktie, she noted with a soft tut, but that hardly mattered when she could feel his pulse beneath his clavicle, without impediment. She felt him swallow, and saw him realise what she'd meant by removing her gloves- other than toying with him, that is.  
  
"Gloves and all that shit doesn't count," he maintained, and his hands suddenly slid up her front- to reach her cravat, supposedly, but in that quick movement he found time to palm her breasts as he passed over them, with a sly squeeze and a slyer wink.  
  
Austria felt her cheeks warm, despite what should've surely been _mundanity_ between them by this point. It was the uniform, she was certain. She was used to correct and proper dress, many layers of stiff, protective underwear that a gentleman would have to fight his way through to reach her...heart. But today she was quite bare, no corset, no petticoat, nothing- a novel feeling every time she tried it, comfortable and uncomfortable at once. She knew that the fine linen of her shirt was not adequately opaque, that the fabric, when it shifted right, would stretch over the outline of ample breasts, nipples that were probably firm and reddened with her creeping arousal. The thought alone was erotic, the sensation of cool air through the soft fabric only compounding things. It was, she acknowledged, the same sort of sensuality that came from transparent shifts and stockings, and the delight and embarrassment of being seen in them- but those were at least clothes made for the bedroom. Then again, she had to admit to being familiar with sex on location... _never_ her own fault, of course.  
  
No amount of sensible inner monologue could keep the flush from her skin, and as Prussia removed her cravat and loosened her stiff collar, she could almost feel it rise up her neck, visible to him.  
  
She was silent but for her breathing, but he spoke, while running his hands down her arms, the long strip of fabric still in his hand.  
  
"Could have some fun with this, heh." He mockingly wrapped the cravat around her wrist; it jolted her from her reverie, and she pulled it from him, tossed it away behind herself.  
  
"I think not- may I remind you that you are being _searched_ , sir? If you are quite satisfied with what you have removed- then stay still!"  
  
He made an apologetic gesture, and an insincere face, before letting her continue; he watched her as she ran her hands down his chest, but she paid him no attention. She was noticing how his shirt, for obvious reasons, showed little detail of his upper torso, but as she slid her hands downwards and the fabric grew taut where it was tucked into his breeches, it framed his narrow waist nicely, and seemed to just barely catch the contours of his stomach. Of course, the high waistband of his trousers cut off her exploration; unthinkingly, she let her hands keep wandering, over the soft buckskin covering his hips and upper thighs. Her eyes, almost unseeing in her concentration, lingered in the area. They were _very_ tight, those breeches, tighter again than her own- made to show off like so many pairs before them, verging on a kind of clothed nudity. With that _bulge_ prominently on display, it was shameful, really, and distracting, so distracting that her thumbs stroked his hips absent-mindedly and pulled the fabric this way and that, and it was a very late realisation that despite his unflinching posture, he was surely almost fully hard.  
  
Austria swallowed, and her head snapped up; the grin had slipped from his face but traces of it lingered around his open mouth, and his pale cheeks were flushed, his eyes slightly glassy. They flickered up and down, from her hands to her face.  
  
"...Problem, Princess?"  
  
Some instinct twitched for the briefest moment in her fingers, an impulse to withdraw immediately and excuse away her explorations; she smiled a little smile about it, wondering at her own ever-lingering sense of modesty. How she could even think to play at chastity, in the middle of an amorous engagement of her own engineering, with a person who had known every inch of her, sometimes in far more scandalous ways than this...well, it would never leave her lips, but she could privately acknowledge a measure of absurdity in it. It was innate, she supposed, part of her personality, but it fell away in the face of desire.  
  
"There seems to be something large and firm hidden in your breeches...should I be concerned?"  
  
She didn't look up, her eyes shadowed by dark eyelashes, staring as she was down at her own hands while they danced over the front of Prussia's trousers. He laughed softly, but there was a shudder in it at that light touch, his cock twitching and pulling the fabric to its limit.  
  
"Ah- depends- maybe," he managed, and he pressed closer to her, his hips pushing forwards to urge a firmer touch, his hands suddenly on her in return- yanking at her shirt, to pull it free from her trousers, then giving up halfway and instead grasping her by the buttocks, filling his hands with soft, rounded flesh and massaging a little frantically, fingers everywhere. It startled her into grabbing his cock in earnest, and he groaned. "Y-You'll have to keep searchin'- extract and examine the w-weapon- carefully- "  
  
"Well, I don't know what you expect to find _there_ ," Austria said breathlessly, as if she was having a completely different conversation, rising on her toes as Prussia's hands squeezed her ass without mercy- she had to steady herself on him, clutching at his waistband, and it prompted her to do exactly as he'd suggested, hurriedly grappling with the many buttons. It was somewhat of a hindrance to have him hold her so close, especially as he leaned down to apply lips and teeth to her neck- in fact she quite lost her concentration for a minute- but his breeches loosened, and she thrust her hands in. A cursory stroke of the velvet skin of his erection, that had him growling in her ear, and she grabbed his hips instead, sliding her hands around to his backside. An eye for an eye, and she dragged her nails up the tight, muscled flesh until he thrust his hips against her, his cock hot and hard and pressing into her most sensitive places, through fabric that felt increasingly irrelevant.  
  
"Fuck me," he said, and she couldn't tell if was an idle oath or a request. His hands were tugging at her breeches, a futile attempt to drag them down over her wide hips without unfastening them, and she let out a snicker in his ear, before nipping it sharply. It was a personal penchant, to sink her teeth into him in reproach, dig her nails in as a warning or an expression of pleasure; she had a genteel bearing in most situations, not one to crave violence, but it wasn't unheard of for her to vent some mischievous, wild impulse on her lovers, and none took it better than Prussia. He enjoyed it, reveled in it and dished it out in return, his hands rough, his teeth gentle.  
  
It seemed to excite him even more, now, if that were possible, but he _tsked_ in her ear before kissing her cheek and jaw, hard and unsteady kisses. " _Well_? Not gonna neglect a weapon like that, are you? It's dangerous- could go off any second!"  
  
"Oh, hush," Austria insisted, but her voice left her in a high-pitched breath as she felt Prussia's touch between her legs, his large, warm hand pushing her thighs apart as he cupped and palmed her, fingers pressing into the soft lips of her vulva, thumb rubbing along the groove he could feel even through fabric. It pressed the seam of her breeches into her, the sensations of smooth buckskin and textured stitching ensuring that if they weren't already damp, they soon would be. "A-Ah- hn- "  
  
He chuckled at her, a throaty sound as her hands sought their revenge under his shirt, clutching and clawing at the planes of his abdomen to feel those muscles tense and strain with his laboured breath. She felt the need to get his shirt off, and while her legs began to tremble under his rough fingering, she grabbed the front of it, dragging a handful of buttons undone before pushing the fabric up, a wordless order.  
  
"Let me see you," he urged, rubbing around her clit mercilessly and meaningfully, but he yielded to her insistence- he let her go completely for a moment, to rip off his shirt impatiently, dragging it over his head in such a forceful movement he almost lost his balance. "C'mon- "  
  
Austria panted as she watched him, her fingers on the dainty buttons obstructing his progress with her trousers, but she dropped them the moment his chest was bare. She pressed close again, her mouth wet against his collar bone, his throat, and her hand dropping to take his cock and fondle it, stroking in quick but perfect measures. She felt him take over with her buttons, fumbling them open until the waistband loosened and he could tug it down- he struggled still, between her thick curves and the skintight fabric, and, Austria noted with a measure of glee, her own efforts to distract him. She was toying with the head of his cock, now, her fingers a little wet with his precome already, and her plump lips caressing his jawline- but he cut her off unexpectedly, turning his head to kiss her.  
  
It was the day's first kiss, deep and hungry, her open mouth inviting his tongue; it made her heartbeat quicken, and a penetrating throb shook her to her core. She wanted, suddenly, to feel that tongue against other parts of her body, to descend him with kisses and feel his cock in her mouth. But there was no time, no space to work out the details of extensive foreplay- Prussia was pushing her trousers towards her knees, yanking her shirt up to expose her breasts, and with a gasp for air, he left her mouth, his lips shining and wet with a tinge of the salve she wore.  
  
She let him go; he took a half-step back, to look at her. Austria supposed she looked about as ruffled, and lustful, and inappropriate as he did- red mouths panting together, skin prickling with hot and cold sensations. It felt awkward and immodest, this incomplete nudity for his viewing pleasure, but she had gotten used to it- being stared at and devoured by wanting eyes; for his part, Prussia always looked a little flustered, almost startled by the sight of her. It gave her a small thrill to go through these motions, to disturb what remained of aristocratic ingenue, or bible-thumping boy.  
  
That didn't mean she could quite stand perfectly still while his eyes lingered on her- she crossed and uncrossed her arms, adjusting the shirt that now bunched above her breasts. The movement pushed them together and drew attention to them- the soft motions of her flesh, the rounded, pear-like shape and the subtle blush of her areolae- all things she couldn't see but could see him getting lost in. She self-consciously touched herself, fingertips down her breasts, to her ribs- dutifully, Prussia followed, down the shadowed, cream-coloured abdomen to her navel, her slightly rounded belly- the creases that formed around her broad hips when she shifted her weight- and lower. She wouldn't touch herself _there_ , not like this, and she played around with her lowered breeches instead, loose around her thighs below the dark bush of hair Prussia was contemplating. That, at least, preserved a little mystery.  
  
Not like him- there was nothing he could do about the stiff, shapely cock thrusting from his trousers, to brush the well-maintained muscles of his lower abdomen. His pale hips, with their pearly scars and jutting bones, made a fascinating canvas for the shocking redness of his arousal- that was one thing she would never get used to. His masculine body was always alien, in all its beauty and familiarity.  
  
It could only have been seconds, but the silence dragged to her; quietly, slowly, she reached up, and pulled her own shirt over her head, letting it drop carelessly. Prussia admired her as she stretched- it drew him from his musing, and he raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Is that where clothes belong?"  
  
"Mm?" Austria looked at him, then at the shirt on the floor, as if she had no idea what he was talking about.  
  
He shook his head, clucking his tongue disapprovingly, though a wild grin broke through his facade. "That's no way to treat part of your uniform, miss. Makes me think you don't deserve to be wearin' one- "  
  
"It is a bit late for that joke, Preußen," she cut in, acutely aware of her near-nakedness, not least because it was now actively impeding her- she made a furtive move to step backwards, but with her breeches halfway down her legs, it was precarious indeed. He noticed, of course.  
  
"You're right...damn. Gotta remember that one for next time, remind me." He followed her as she tentatively shuffled back, catching up in one stride- when she tried to pick up her pace, she stumbled, right into the desk behind her, and Prussia smoothly trapped her there with his hands flat on the surface either side of her. "But _right now_ , I think there's parts of you that I still need to search, Princess!"  
  
Austria gave him a quizzical look, and then a soft smile in response to his own wide, indulgent one; she tilted her chin up towards him, and he kissed her, warm and full of affection. It was hard to know unless you _knew_ , but Prussia could be sweet, delightful, with his soft snowy eyelashes and that glowing stare, the dimple in his cheek as he looked at her like he never wanted to look at anything else. And he kissed better than he had any right to, knowing when to tease her with his tongue, when to nibble at her lower lip, and when to meet her halfway, their mouths made to fit and move together seamlessly.  
  
His hands found her hips, fingers digging deep into her flesh- and then he broke from her lips and turned her around, in one businesslike motion, until she was bent over the desk and had to catch herself on it.  
  
"...What- ?"  
  
"Hold tight, Österreich."  
  
She felt him tug her trousers right to her knees, and turned a bit to see him, her breasts pressed against the cold leather surface, the rivets at the edge pressing icily against her belly. She was more curious than offended, and she allowed him to take her by the hips and correct her posture, her legs parted as much as possible, nice and straight; combined with the arch of her back, it gave her prominent backside a lovely curve, and she realised that there was very little mystery left _now_. Well, as long as he was going to hurry up and fuck her, that was fine.  
  
But he still needed to be chided for it. "That was rude, you know."  
  
"I told you," he said, too tall behind her for her to really see his face, "I need to finish searching you. Don't think I don't know how sneaky you are, heh..."  
  
She made a face, though he probably couldn't see. "Do you think I have a...blunderbuss or something hidden away...? On- on my person?"  
  
He touched her thighs, and though she held her position, it was difficult; his thumbs stroked that soft skin, just on the inside, and made her hair stand on end. They moved up and down, pulling at the skin of her thighs and buttocks, spreading her gently- it brought a hot blush to her face, the cold air making it obvious that she was wetter than she'd expected, the dampness everywhere between her legs. She felt heavy with her arousal, an aggravating ache starting with her clit and continuing deep inside her. If he would just hurry and fill her-  
  
"Hmm...where would that be, Princess? Can't see anything...but you've always had a good poker face...hah- "  
  
"What?"  
  
"Could it _be_...in here?"  
  
"In- _ah_." She hastily cut herself off. He was close enough for his erection to rub against her thigh, the fingers of his left hand delicately slipping between her lower lips, to move in slow patterns, while his right wandered over her ass, squeezing her cheeks enough to leave prints. Austria pushed herself up on her hands, her back arching. " _Not_ there, idiot."  
  
She heard a low laugh, and felt his fingers around her entrance, not pushing inside, but teasing her. "I bet it'd fit- "  
  
"How _dare_ you, you filthy- tch- !" Her breeches prevented her from properly stamping on his foot, and a thumb against her clit interrupted her outraged reply. She was willing to let it go, honestly, if he would just get on with it, what she came here for, what she craved- when she finally felt him move into position behind her, his cock between her thighs and his hips crushing against her ass until she was on tiptoes, she almost cried aloud, just barely channeling the impulse into a harsh breath of air. "S-Stop- stop stalling."  
  
"Hah- in good time, Österreich," was Prussia's response. "Don't know if I- hmh- feel safe puttin' it in there yet...how's this, hah?"  
  
"How is...wha..." Austria thought better of her question before she'd finished it, trailing off, more interested now in action than in words. She wriggled her hips, but Prussia held her fast, making no move to enter her, even though she could _hear_ the exertion in his voice, the desire. He would rather toy with her to the last minute than even satisfy himself, it was laughable- she felt the heat of his shaft pressing up against her vulva, and when he ground against her it slid easily back and forth, her slickness welcoming him. It felt good- very good, as it continued, perhaps better than the alternative, and she strained against the fabric limiting the spread of her legs, eagerly pushing down to feel him rub against her clit. But the more she begged of him, the less he gave, until she was certain he felt pleasure not from physical touch, but from witnessing her desperation. Like some sort of terrible incubus.  
  
She collapsed down against the desk, her legs beginning to tremble. "I-If you don't- hurry up and d-do it _right now_ , I will certainly find _s-something_ to disembowel you with, you useless- _oh_!"  
  
It wasn't what she was expecting. Prussia lifted her up, and with amazing care considering how quickly he did it, he rolled her over, laying her down on his desk. It made her dizzy for a moment, and she lay there staring at the distant ceiling, and the tall bookshelves that seemed to close in like tower walls. She tried to sit up, but Prussia lifted her legs into the air; it was strange, seeing them held at ninety degrees in front of her, a position she couldn't have held herself. The toes of her boots pointed skyward, her bare thighs pressing together with her trousers awkwardly bunched at her knees. But she felt weightless.  
  
Prussia's head appeared to one side of her legs, one arm safely wrapped around them, as though it was effortless for him. "Sorry."  
  
"...Liar." Austria closed her eyes; she could feel her hair coming loose, and she blew strands from her face. "You are a liar and a miscreant, Preußen..."  
  
She attempted to jab him with her heel, but he must have ducked, though she didn't see it. She didn't see his face, either, when he pulled her hips to the edge of the desk, and pressed his cock into her- whether he was smiling, or concentrating, or shuddering with sensation, she never knew, but she felt him throb inside her, sliding to the hilt and pausing there. He let both her legs rest on one shoulder, his hands on the desk; when she opened her eyes, she could see his face again, and he was looking right at her. Looking at the colour of her eyes, she thought; drowning himself.  
  
For once, it was she who gave a languid smile, mocking him. "No answer?"  
  
That moved him; he snorted, broke eye contact to adjust their bodies carefully. "Tell me somethin' I've never heard before."  
  
He leaned down as he first thrust into her, his stomach flush with her thighs as her legs bent down closer to her chest- his movements were slow, thorough. Perhaps he was pacing himself or becoming adjusted, but she suspected treachery. It was _good_ , though, in its slowness, his hips rolling rather than clumsily banging back and forth like a desk drawer. Her tightly shut legs made her glad of the gentleness, the fullness almost overstimulating, and she breathed heavily, steadying herself. The stillness forced on her began to grate- she longed to feel free in her movements again, and she began to squirm. Hips rising, hands scrabbling at the smooth leather and wood beneath her for leverage. It interrupted Prussia's careful pace, and he gave her thigh a harmless smack before idly rubbing it, up and down.  
  
"Always so damn impatient, aren't you?" Now he came to a complete stop, and Austria's entire head rolled with her eyes.  
  
"Take those off me at once- _move_ , you wretch," she implored- it was really a whine, even she had to admit. It amused him, but even as he began to laugh, Austria kicked at him, and however ineffective it was, it provoked him enough to obey.  
  
"Alright- alright, Jesus- but you asked for it, Princess," he said; he was deep inside her as he fumbled with the buttons of her boots, and it was infuriating, he wasn't working _fast_ enough and she was growing uncomfortable, needing to stretch her legs, to entrap him between them. "When I get all this off, I'm gonna- "  
  
"What? Put me to sleep?!"  
  
"Sounds about right. You always fall asleep when I'm through with you, hah?" he snickered. It wasn't in any way amusing, and one of her boots was loose enough to pull her foot free and perhaps kick him soundly, but as it happened, it was also loose enough to let something fall out.  
  
Something she had, frankly, forgotten all about.  
  
The thin, gilt-handled knife in its leather sheath scuffed her thigh as it fell, landing on the desk with a heavy _clunk_. The two of them stared at it, Prussia slowly pulling Austria's boot the rest of the way off, and absently dropping it to the floor.  
  
He picked up the dagger, at length, and peered at the decorative hilt. Austria watched him apprehensively; when he squinted at her, she widened her eyes in faux-surprise.  
  
"In your _boot_?"  
  
"Is that where it was?"  
  
"What- in your fuckin' boot, really?"  
  
"I had quite forgotten."  
  
" _Christ_." Prussia pulled it halfway out of the scabbard, turning the blade to see it shine in the fading light; the library would soon be dark. "You'd forget your ass if it wasn't attached."  
  
Austria let out an impatient snort. "You _have_ forgotten a certain appendage, I think you'll find, it is currently idling in my- "  
  
"In a safer sheath than a damn boot," he said, and he jerked his hips to be a nuisance. There was a measure of disbelief in his flushed face, and for just an instant, a dubious sort of expression as he examined her knife; it passed, and with a disapproving tut, he pulled open a desk drawer and shut it inside. "Since you've got that way too innocent, shocked little lamb expression on your face, I guess I can assume you weren't waiting all this time to finish me off, eh?"  
  
" _Obviously_ ," Austria huffed. She was squirming again, trying to free her own leg from the tangle it was in, her foot clipping Prussia's shoulder. He grabbed it, and in a swift movement, he pulled the leg of her breeches off her, leaving her strangely half-trousered, but free to move as she would. And she did, letting her legs fall far apart; she had a full view of him, now, standing high above her, all wiry muscle and soft, pale hair, soft, clear eyes. He wore a curiously serious expression, thoughtful, perhaps.  
  
He could have been contemplating their relationship, and how few other men extracted knives from ladies' boots in the middle of sex. Or maybe he was thinking about her, how pretty and sensual she was lying before him, with her curves and rosy lips, pale lapis eyes and spread legs- how inviting, when she had been imperious in her uniform- how apparently vulnerable, when she carried razor-sharp weaponry.  
  
He bent down towards her, and she instinctively pushed up with her shoulders, though she couldn't reach him; her hands moved to his, sliding up his forearms as they braced him on the desk.  
  
"Definitely not trying to kill me?"  
  
" _Rapidly_ changing my mind."  
  
"Just checking," he said, and she could have slapped him, but he pulled her legs up around his waist and gave her one long thrust that sent her into a slight spasm of pleasure, and she supposed she could give him a temporary reprieve.  
  
He was too breathless, too soon to keep up any verbal teasing; he spoke with his eyes and his knowing, self-satisfied smile as he fucked her, watching her sprawl beneath him with no response, no comeback. Her arms draped back off the desk, or dragged over it wildly, knocking pens and other oddments off to fall with sharp clatters on the stone floor- the noise might have concerned her if it weren't lost in the din of the desk creaking and scraping, the slap of skin and the harshness of human breathing, whimpering, moaning. She had no time to scowl back at Prussia for his mockery, no interest in bantering, only in feeling him drive into her without pretense or games, again, again, until it stopped being a discrete physical feeling and became a rush of some sublime sensation, spreading through her deepest core.  
  
This was what she came for, what she hoped to win when she started her game. Unlike anything else- anyone else- the feeling of something illicit, unwise, _dangerous_ in some way, that she could only get from him. In one year it might be that they were at war; in another, that they were _discouraged_ from appearing too close before watchful, vengeful eyes. Austria would admit, this relationship, obvious but unproven, made a nice slap in the face for certain people in this uneasy era. But she had no thought to spare for them, not now, when her sweat-slick back arced up from the desk in frantic need, her legs gripped tight by powerful hands and held apart, so that Prussia could pierce her, penetrate to what felt like her heart, at a pace that threatened the stability of the surface beneath her. She admired his relentless energy, his military precision. She had taken those qualities and made a damned fine lover out of him, if she did say so, even if he was an imbecile and a nuisance, and an embarrassment, and any number of worthless things- he was drawing gasping, throaty moans from her, his hands hot as they roved her body, on the cool damp skin of her breasts and her hips, and it wouldn't do to think flattering thoughts about him, not at all--  
  
But she called out for him, a strange mixture of joy and exasperation in her voice, when he made her come at last- a deep shudder ran through her and refused to stop, her toes clutching at the air, her intimate parts thoroughly throbbing, until the feeling radiated up her thighs and made them shake. She needed to stop, and never wanted to let it end- she let him pound her with all those wet sounds shockingly audible, his body bent double over hers, his knuckles white as he gripped the desk and almost upended it with the force of his final thrusts.  
  
When he finished, he did it in hard, staccato movements, his face close to hers, such that all she could hear was his laboured breathing, and his heaving chest met her own. Austria reached up with weak arms to wrap around his broad back; she felt, barely, his lips against her ear.  
  
They stayed like that, until sensation dimmed for Austria, and she felt something other than her own numbness; she was comfortable with him buried inside her and leaning heavily on top of her, something that surprised her through the fog in her head. She stroked the back of his neck, felt the sweat that dampened his hair and made it stick up in ruffled layers. She would have stayed like that, content, but it evidently wasn't comfortable for him; he pulled himself up gingerly, with a long groan.  
  
"...My back...is fucked."  
  
It was too much to expect pillow talk from him, at least in the absence of pillows.  
  
He was tender, though, as he removed himself from her, his mouth against her nipples and her belly, kissing her inner thigh and briefly licking her clit, which made her sigh aloud; there would be time, time enough for all sorts of pleasures, later. When he was upright, Prussia helped her sit up, letting her lean against his chest. Her hair was flyaway, half-fallen from its previously neat arrangement; she felt soaked, sweat undrying in the musty air, come between her legs and dripping on to the desk. That was his problem.  
  
"Preußen." Austria's voice was low, as if she'd strained it; she laid her head on his shoulder, and he grunted in response. "You're not keeping my dagger to pawn off."  
  
Prussia moved his hands in slow circles over her bare, soft hips, for what seemed like ages; then he laughed, quiet and gruff. "How hard up d'you think I am?"  
  
"Enough to help yourself to my jewels?" Austria pulled back enough to look at him, brows raised; he was red and splotchy in the face, his hair a misshapen cloud, but it would have been hypocritical to draw attention to that. She was more interested in fishing for information, anyway; something idle and pointless to pass the time while she regained the use of her legs, and thought about how exactly she would be able to leave the library in her state.  
  
At first Prussia didn't answer. He brought his face close to hers, and she would have sworn he was studying her, memorising the elements of her face in this moment; his lips brushed hers, his tongue bringing a salt taste to her mouth. Then he gave her a lofty look. "What jewels? You came here lookin' like a general, not a lady, when was I supposed to take any jewels, hah?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Austria said, "you find ways." The chair was near enough for her to reach, and she ran her fingers over the collection of discarded silks and wools they had left hanging on it, in no hurry. When she hit on his waistcoat pocket, she kept her eyes firmly on his- on the warm red like mulled wine, and the greyish transition it made, towards the colour of a mirror sky, a cloudy day. He smiled at her, barely blinking, until she retrieved what she was looking for, and let it dangle from her fingertips between them.  
  
Black metal- cast-iron, if she had to guess, and that was not what she had been expecting- in the form of a necklace, the chain short enough for it to almost be a choker. Against expectations, it was delicately pretty, worked in intricate, gothic patterns; set with what was probably rhinestone, and tiny beads of marcasite, it twinkled brightly even in the dismal light when she let it sway from side to side.  
  
"...Well...I suppose you are innocent in this instance, Preußen, as I have no recollection of _this_ piece..."  
  
"No shit," he said; gently, he took the necklace from her, and without elaboration, he brought it to her throat and fastened it there for her. Against her pale skin, she thought it must look striking, like black lace- though it could just as easily look tawdry, she thought.  
  
"And what is the occasion? Has someone died?"  
  
"Shut up, it's all the rage. Or it's gonna be- I hope- need the good stuff for, ah, funding purposes," Prussia said, elusively. It wouldn't do to speak aloud of _war efforts_ , not yet, but Austria had to admire the foresight, and the thrift. She put her hand to the intricately wrought metal, and smiled.  
  
"Then I think it is lovely. I shall wear it in town and start a fashion."  
  
"Heh." Prussia might have been bashful; it was hard to tell, but he rubbed the back of his head, trying to lay his hair flat again. "Get dressed, first. Or don't."  
  
"No, I think I shall just prance about Berlin in nothing but my skin," she replied, and then, more seriously, "but even if I dressed, I feel the uniform does such a pretty thing no justice, anyway."  
  
"Yeah- well. I was hop- I was expecting, y'know," Prussia said, rather lamely, "that you'd come in something else- you always come here all puffed up- when I saw that damn uniform, I thought I'd forget about givin' it to you since there was no way you'd start a trend in that- I want everyone wearin' these, don't forget it!"  
  
"Oh, yes, that was your reasoning, I am sure." Austria rolled her eyes, toying with her gift. It was more common than one might think, to receive trinkets from Prussia- he was like a magpie in his tastes, and useless with money, always eager to impress. "It's no matter, I have a dozen dresses that might match it. I shall wear one to dinner."  
  
A silence fell, the type unique to libraries; a deep hush, full of dust and paper. Prussia broke it in short order.  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"What d'you mean, dresses?"  
  
"What are you talking about?"  
  
"Dresses for dinner? Eh?"  
  
"Speak sensibly, idiot!" Austria huffed, eyebrows knitting together. Was he really this clueless? "I am hardly going to wear a soiled uniform to dinner, as a guest!"  
  
"I know that, I'm not fuckin' stupid! But listen- what've you brought with y..." Prussia trailed off, as if understanding dawned. "Are you _staying_?!"  
  
She squinted at him. "Yes. I should think so. After coming all the way here- are you trying to turn me away?"  
  
"No! No...but, Princess- I thought..." He was looking at her in disbelief- probably at his own stupidity, and she could not blame him one bit.  
  
"You thought I would come all the way to Berlin for some...afternoon...dalliance? You utter fool."  
  
He opened his mouth to contest the point, but evidently thought better of it, and closed it again. Instead, he leaned down and laid his head against her, his forehead in the crook of her shoulder; she absently patted him.  
  
"I thought it was obvious."  
  
"Ah...yeah..."  
  
"I trust you will show me the utmost hospitality for the duration of my stay."  
  
"I'll get some more staff in, _your Highness_."  
  
"I plan to be here for the month at least, you know."  
  
"Right...it's just that- if you'd _said_ , Princess- y'know- you could send a letter or something if you're coming to freeload for weeks on end."  
  
"Nonsense. What _is_ the problem?"  
  
He raised his head, and to her amusement, he looked almost sheepish. "If I'd known- I wouldn't've fuckin' risked the goddamn butler finding us, breaking a fucking desk in the library in the middle of the day. I-I thought you'd be leaving soon, so...a-anyway- you're gonna give me a heart attack one of these fuckin' days, I swear."  
  
Austria brushed her fingers through the curls coming loose in her hair, preening as though there was nothing out of the ordinary; as though she sat at her dressing table, not naked and mussed on a creaking desk in a semi-public place, surrounded by the debris of indecent liaisons and poor decisions.  
  
"Now, don't be silly," she said. "A good butler would never walk in on such a scene. And, after all, Preußen, it had to be done."  
  
He looked at her, warily but appreciatively- all that gentility in her voice and mannerisms, and all that lasciviousness to her body, it was a lethal combination. "Did it?"  
  
"Of course," she said, indulgently, pinching his cheek. "You had to search me, my dear, or I _might_ just have assassinated you."

**Author's Note:**

> 1810 is mid-Napoleonic Wars, so:  
> \- Austria has suffered losses in the Wars of the Third Coalition (1805) and the Fifth (1809)  
> \- Napoleon has just married Marie Louise of Austria, as part of (essentially) peace negotiations with Austria  
> \- Prussia took part in, and lost, the War of the Fourth Coalition (1806-7)  
> \- Napoleon visited Old Fritz's grave after that one and made his people take off their hats in respect, which I'm sure drove Prussia mad  
> \- The Holy Roman Empire was dissolved in 1806, but it wasn't exactly cut and dried; in Hetalia, of course, we know that he became sick here, and lived with Prussia  
> \- In just two years, Napoleon's failed campaign in Russia will open the door for Prussia, Austria et al to kick his ass, which leads us to _If you were queen of pleasure_ , if you want to read that
> 
> General stuff:  
> \- Uniforms are broadly accurate, look up 'Napoleonic uniforms' and it's all much of a muchness  
> \- They really did make cast-iron jewellery in Berlin, first for mourning, then as a patriotic fashion trend as people traded in gold and silver for the iron stuff (to pay for the Napoleonic wars). When I say 'rhinestone', I mean the lead/crystal glass Swarovski type (which was already being made), but I am nodding to the fact that the first rhinestones were crystals found in, well, the Rhine...so there's a double Austrian whammy  
> \- At a ball given in Napoleon and Marie Louise's honour in Paris, a fire broke out and killed/injured quite a few people  
> \- Everything else, including the relationships depicted here, is spun from my own vault of knowledge and headcanon and desire for them to get it on, so take with a grain of salt


End file.
